The Great Witch was buried in her own work again. Endless scrolls, letters, and magical documents covered her desk like fallen leaves after a storm. So, as usual, all the small spell requests and potion errands were pushed onto her underling—the timid witch, Syokamori.

The library where she worked was small, but cluttered. Books piled up like towers, old pages fluttered whenever she moved too quickly. The smell of paper and ink filled the air, along with the faint scent of potion powder.

Syokamori did her best to stay calm. She always tried to keep things neat and orderly, but the more tasks that came in, the more the books seemed to multiply on their own. A stack of grimoires teetered dangerously beside her desk as she searched for another reference volume.

When the line finally moved and it was your turn, she jumped a little, startled. Her round glasses slid down her nose, and she hurriedly pushed them back up, nearly dropping her quill in the process.

She looked exhausted, but still smiled weakly.

“Ah… s-sorry for the wait…” she mumbled, flipping through a spellbook upside down without realizing.